The Cold Hard Truth
by malfoysdaughter
Summary: When Murphy and Connor get their first tattoos, odd things begin to happen to Connor. Anytime he asks for the truth,  he gets it, even it it isn't what he wants to hear. TWINCEST!


(AN: I DO NOT OWN THE TWINS OR THEIR MOM! THEY BELONG TO THE LUCKY ASSHOLE KNOWN AS TROY DUFFY! Now, I know this is some serious AU, but I really REALLY wanted to write this because it came into my head and wouldn't die. Freaking plot bunnies…*growls* It was caused by the Supernatural episode where the Goddess of Truth shows up. As I was sitting there, this stupid plot bunny was born and just destroyed everything I have been working on for Don't Even Think About It!'s next chapter….If I don't write this, then I will never get it out of my head and I will go crazy and then none of my stories will be finished and I will go MAD. :( Now then no flaming and if you don't like MUCHO AU then don't read. Because I set the boys loose in my mind and they are trapped there playing my games. Also, on a side note for those of you who care, I changed it up a bit. In the episode, someone would say I want the truth, the person affected would know they were saying it, but just couldn't stop it. They also didn't answer just questions, they just started spilling everything they ever thought about the person that asked, or secrets about themselves. I decided to save the "victims" in this version and have them not know, and only answer questions.)

It had taken them a while, but it was finally going to happen. They had worked their asses off for months on end to save up the money for their first tattoos, and now they were standing in front of a tattoo parlor. Murphy shifted from one foot to the other and glanced at his older half. The place they had picked looked like someone had just moved into an old abandoned building. The front of it was peeling, and singles from the roof littered the ground. They had picked it because it was cheap, the rest of the nicer places in town had wanted close to a hundred to one hundred and fifty apiece for the written tattoos they were wanting on their hands. Each had picked out a Latin phrase that meant something to them, and now it was time.

Stepping forward, Connor shoved open the door and lead the way in. He didn't seem to mind the dilapidated condition of the shop. He was too excited as he walked in clutching the piece of paper that had their words written on it. Veritas and Aequitas, truth and justice. He himself was getting Veritas down his left forefinger, while Murphy was getting Aequitas down his right forefinger. Looking around, he studied the pictures on the walls. All of them were hand drawn works of art, and all had the artist name written in the corner with the date it was made. Walking over to one wall, the boys studied a picture of a young girl with her lips sewn shut, holding the needle in her own hand. Beside it, a young man around their age was screaming as crows swooped down on him and were eating him alive. The twins locked eyes before sharing nervous giggles. Stepping away from the walls in unison, they meandered back over to the dusty counter. Murphy stepped forward like a nervous hare making its way towards a fox den. Leaning over, his gaze traced the lines and brush strokes on the small pictures in the glass case.

As he leaned in to get a better look at one of what looked like a photograph of an actual heart, a noise had him shooting up like a bullet from a gun. The owner of the store stood across from him, arms crossed over his chest. Before he noticed what he had done, Murphy stumbled back a step into Connor. His twin caught him and held him steady as their gazes locked with the man's. A shudder worked its way up Murphy's spine, and he could feel it echoed like a shout in a canyon down Connor's. The man before them was a sight to behold. Long, greasy, gray hair was tied back in a pony that stopped at the man's shoulders; the left side of his face was pockmarked, and scarred with craters, the right side was just slightly less marred. His lips were chapped, cracked and were the color of cherries. His nose was squished, like it had been broken and had just never been fixed, left there to sit at an angle on the oily face. But what terrified the boys most about him was his eyes. One of them was a startling green, so bright, it shamed the fresh grass outside, but the other was milky, clouded like a stormy sky before the rain pounded the earth. The man was as tall as they were, but he was of a bigger build. Arms that were sleeved in tattoos of different layers of hell were crossed over a barrel chest that was trapped in a stained white t-shirt. Jeans held up by a thick black belt and stained with years of old ink clothed powerful legs, with one knee poking out.

The owner looked them up and down, taking them in before he snorted. "Wha' do ya wan'?" He asked, voice sounding like boulders tumbling down a cliff into the sea.

Connor stepped forward and shot the man his best smile, but Murphy could see the strain in it. "Aye, we're here ta ge' some tattoos. I called this mornin' and made an appointmen'?" He said, holding up the piece of paper. The man took it, his hands stained with ink. Looking them over, he nodded.

"Good enough fer me. Who's getting' wha' done then?" He asked, leading them to the back of his shop.

"'M Connor, this is Murphy, an' 'M the one getting' Veritas." Connor explained, following him. The man grunted.

"I'll do yer brother firs', then yeh." He said, pointing to a chair. "'M gonna go ge' me ink, so sit down an' ge' comfy." With that, he vanished behind a door. The twins locked eyes, and shared a moment of silent argument. Murphy's eyes were begging his brother to leave with him, just go anywhere else and never look at this shop again. Connor's eyes narrowed, the blue gaze snapping back that this was the only place they could afford. Giving up, Murphy flopped down in the broken chair to wait as Connor leaned against one pale cream wall. "Alrigh' now, 'M ready." The man said, stomping back into the room. One hand carried an tattoo gun, the other held two small bottles of ink. Sitting down on a chair beside Murphy, he dragged a small table over and set down the gun and the inks. Reaching across the table, he grabbed a small cap-like object and poured one of the bottles of ink into it. "Are yeh ready?" He asked, dipping the gun into the ink. Murphy watched him pull it out, the needles dripping with the thick black ink. Swallowing, he nodded his consent. "Alrigh' then, this is gonna hur' slightly." He grunted, pulling the trigger of the gun as it pressed against Murphy's flesh.

Pain shot through Murphy's hand, causing his eyes to go wide. Breath in a hissing whistle was inhaled through clenched teeth as blue eyes locked with their mirrored, older gaze. Exhaling in a gasp, Murphy tried to ignore the feeling that a thousand bees had suddenly decided to mate with his hand. Connor bit his lip and resisted the urge to step forward and take Murphy's free hand in a gesture of comfort. The man snorted yet again, causing both boys to think that he was trying to be part bull.

"It ain' tha' bad Sweetness." He snapped, looking up. Murphy almost choked on the air he breathed as the man called him that. Connor had to stuff his fist almost fully into his mouth and bite down to keep from bursting out in laughter. Nodding, the man started once more. Locking eyes with Connor, Murphy sent him a silent threat of "laugh and I will make you regret every snigger when we get home", and all his older half did was smirk at him like a cat with a bowl of cream staring at one who had nothing. Resisting the urge to flip off the elder half, Murphy just glared a hole in the wall that was in front of him.

After an hour, Murphy was done. For the whole time, no one had said anything after the man had called him Sweetness. "Alrigh' Sweetness, yer done. Now, here's yer card with how ta take care o' it." He said, handing Murphy a card. Taking it, he just nodded and moved so Connor could sit down in the chair where he had be immobile for an hour. "Alrigh' now Pretty, yer getting' Veritas on yeh?" The man asked, looking down at the paper. Murphy clamped his mouth shut as fast as he could, trying not to let out his mirth filled laugh. Connor's mouth started working like a fish out of water, gasping for air that wasn't quite reaching his lungs. The man looked up. "Well Pretty?"

"Aye." Connor squeaked out, sitting down. They were on an even playing field now, neither one of them able to tease the other as to what they had been called.

"Alrigh' then. Again, this is gonna hur' like a bitch." The man told him, grabbing his gun and cleaning it. Dipping it in a new capful off ink, he placed it against Connor's skin. Pulling the trigger, he started. Connor bit his lip so hard on the inside, he almost tasted blood. Pain seared his veins and nerves like his finger had just been crushed in a door. But as he was trying to ignore the pain, he noticed that something warm was flooding his veins. It was starting where the ink was coloring his skin. It was just a light warmth, something he could have almost not noticed had he not been trying to grasp something other than pain. Raising one eyebrow slightly at it, he just tried to ignore it as he looked around at the art on the walls to distract him. Each piece of art was almost photograph-like in its state. Connor was amazed at the works, eyes trailing each line of each one. One in particular caught his eye. It was a child on a swing, back facing the glass pane that covered it. A male child actually, with dark hair and pale skin. His head was bent slightly, looking down at the ground from where he sat on a swing. Both arms were stretched out to reach the ropes. A black t-shirt and a pair of well worn jeans were both lightly dusted with dirt, and the sneakers on the boy's feet were coated in a light layer of mud. The swing was hanging from a lush oak tree, the ropes frayed slightly as they reached the large board that served as a seat for two. In the far background was a huge pasture, with sheep milling around. Smiling, Connor looked at the wall opposite of that picture.

It was a picture in the exact same area as the one he had just been studying, only this time, it was a lighter haired boy. He was sitting exactly like the other boy had been, arms stretched out and head bent. Even his clothes were lightly dusted with dirt. But the other difference between the two other than the hair, was this boy was tanned a light golden color. Connor raised one pale eyebrow. It seemed this man liked these two boys, because he remembered seeing a sketch of them in the front of the shop when they had been waiting for him. It seemed he never drew their faces, only them with their backs to the viewer. The one up front had the two side by side, hands interlocked like they were the only ones that were left on earth and were using each other as anchors. The more he studied the pictures, the more they stirred something in him. Or was that just the warmth spreading through him like a soft sheet of power from his hand where the ink was marking him? Shaking his head lightly, he looked up at Murphy, the darker half of them. Murphy was leaning against the wall where he had been, watching the needles work on the tanned flesh. His blue eyes followed the movement of the gun, slightly glazed with boredom. Connor smirked to himself, it was amazing to see the other this still and quiet. Normally, his younger half would be talking nonstop and moving around, hands flying around like they were trying to fly off of his body. But now, he was standing like a Greek God carved out of marble, not moving, not talking, just watching.

Shrugging it off, he noticed that the warmth was starting to tingle as it consumed him. It was like something was in the ink, taking over his veins. But he didn't feel sick, and it was just a warm sensation that was getting his attention. Yet again, he just shoved the feeling away and started pondering over the meaning of why this man had so many pictures of those two boys.

"Tha' yer done Pretty." The man said, hauling himself to his feet. Connor looked down at the fresh black ink that coated his finger. He smiled happily, grin lighting up his face. Looking up, he locked eyes with Murphy and they both shared an identical look. Their Ma was going to have a baby cow when she saw them, but they loved them. For their first tattoos, these were better than they thought they would be. "Now then, yer gonna wanna leave those bandages on fer four hours, no taken them off. Rest o' yer instructions are on those cards I gave yeh." The man said, handing Connor his.

"Thank yeh." He muttered, looking it over. "Well, Murph I think tha' we go' all we need. Yeh ready ta go?"

Murphy nodded. "Aye, thank yeh sir." He said, smiling at the man.

"Whatever jus' make sure yeh don' ruin them." He said, locking eyes with Connor. A shudder rippled through him, and he wasn't sure why. The warmth in him was starting to fade, but he was left feeling like something was different with him. "Now go, I gotta close early today." He said, shooing them back up front.

As Murphy wandered around, Connor handed the man the money. "Thank yeh again." He said, trying to remain polite. All he got was a nod and a wave out the door. Grabbing Murphy by the back of the shirt, he hauled him out of the shop as fast as he could. Murphy shot him a quizzical look as he was dragged down the road.

"Wha' the fuck's wrong?" He asked, yanking his shirt free and pulling it back into shape.

"Tha' man jus'…wasn' he fuckin' creepy ta yeh?" Connor asked. Murphy grabbed a pack of smokes from his pocket and shrugged.

"Aye, he was. Jus' tha way he acted…and tha fuckin' names he was callin' us!" Murphy said, laughing as he handed Connor a cigarette.

"Did yeh see the pictures o' the two boys?"

"Aye, didn' they look familiar ta yeh? Like we've seen them before, or we knew them." He said, shuddering at the thought.

"I know wha' yeh mean. I was thinkin' tha' when we were in there." Connor replied, lighting their smokes. Taking a deep drag, he glanced up at the sky. Even though he was out of the place, and the needle was no longer in his skin, his hand was tingling. But with each step they took towards home, the feeling was fading away.

"How bad do yeh think Ma's gonna lose it?" Murphy asked, a slow smile spreading across his face. Connor couldn't help but reflect it with one of his own.

"More than likely she's gonna lose her marbles an' beat us half ta death with her bottle." He said, laughing. Murphy joined him, shaking his head. "Or she's gonna make us live in tha' church."

Murphy exhaled, laughing. "I can see it now, Father McGhee is gonna try an' say it's vanity or pride. He's gonna make us pray nonstop fer a week."

Connor was laughing too hard to reply as their home came into view. It was old and rickety, with peeling white paint, a hole in the upper corner of the second story wall that faced the south, and a porch that sagged a little as if it was tired of being there. Flowers burst in a riot of color in the front, doing battle with the trees that lined it. A large, faded white barn was behind it, surrounded by a few more trees. Behind the barn was a pasture, and little white balls of wool milled around, baaing at one another in a lazy conversation. It wasn't much to most in the poor village they lived in, but to them, it was a fine home.

Jogging up the stairs of the porch, Murphy tossed open the screen door and opened the door that lead into the hall way. "Ma? Are yeh home?" He called. Padding down the hall, he made his way past pictures of him and his bother as kids, family members, and pets on the white walls. Walking through an open doorway, he looked around the cluttered, butter yellow kitchen. Empty. "Ma?" He called. Turning, he glanced at Connor. "Guess she ain' home yet." He said, shrugging.

His older half nodded. "Aye, seems like it. Oh well, she'll come home later." He replied, padding lightly over the worn floor boards and up the stairs to their room. He wanted to check his hand as soon as he could, and see if the man had messed it up, to cause that odd tingle he had felt when getting it. Reaching the landing for the second floor, he passed the door to the room he shared with his dark haired, younger half and made his way to the bathroom at the end of the hall. Walking in, he kept the door open. It wouldn't matter anyway. If Murphy had to do something in there, regardless if he was in it, he would. Peeling off the bandage, he smiled at the ink in his skin. It was red around the black, and slightly swollen, but there was nothing wrong with the tattoo itself. Shrugging it off, he walked back down the hall and paused in the open door way of their sunlit room. Posters covered most of the cream colored walls, all of them of different places that they wanted to go. On his side, there was a small shelf of ribbons and a trophy or two. Above Murphy's bed, sketch books were mingled with regular books, all worn and well read. The room had hardly changed from when they were kids, clothes strewn on the floor, stuff scattered on top of the dresser, and their beds unmade. But one main thing had been added to it. A small box was under their nightstand, half full of saved up money from odd jobs they had worked and what little they were given for their birthday and Christmas.

They were saving up to go to America, and were half way to their goal. Nothing was going to stop them, he was going to be sure of that. Murphy was excited to go, and he wasn't about to crush his other half's hopes.

"Are yeh gonna go in or are yeh just gonna gawk at it?" Murphy asked, walking up the stairs. Connor shrugged.

"Don' know yet. Haven't quiet go' tha' far. What are yeh doin' up here?" He asked, turning to face his younger half.

"Gonna grab a book and sit on tha pourch an' read."

"Yeh wan' somethin' ta eat? 'M starving."

"Nah, 'M no' really hungry."

"I'll make yeh a sandwich. Yer never fuckin' hungry and yet, yeh eat lik a horse when yeh finally do." Connor teased, swatting Murphy's arm as his twin walked into the room. Murphy snorted, swatting Connor back. Laughing, the light haired teen tackled his brother and soon the two were rolling across the small floor in their room, name calling, laughing, and play fighting. In a matter of minutes, Connor had Murphy pinned under him, their long legs tangled and their bodies almost flush with each other. Lifting himself up slightly, he stared down at the slightly darker blue gaze that mirrored his own.

From where he lay, Murphy swallowed hard, his heart hammering against his ribs like a caged animal. His breathing was starting to come in shallow pants, and he bit his lower lip. Feelings that were forbidden raged to the surface like froth on a stormy sea. Battling them, he gave Connor his sheepish grin. Having his older twin this close to him was intoxicating, though he would never act upon it. Connor returned the smile, loosening his grip on Murphy's hands.

"Boys! Are yeh home?" The voice of their Ma rang out through the house, causing them both to jump. Detangling their legs, Connor quickly stood, reaching a hand out and hauling Murphy to his feet.

"Aye Ma! We're here." He called back.

"Come on down, I wanna talk ta yeh. And bring tha' worthless brother o' yers."

Rolling his eyes, Murphy followed his twin down the stairs into the kitchen. Their Ma was by the counter, setting a few bags down. "There ya are. Can yeh help me with the groceries?" She asked, turning to face them. They glanced at each other, the unspoken challenge of who would be the first to slip and show her the tattoos flashed in their gaze, and they could feel it in their bond as they turned towards the paper bags. As their Ma turned back to the two bags she had, they grabbed the ones that they were to unload and tried to unpack them as fast as they could. Shooting Connor a wicked grin, Murphy lunged towards the pantry as Connor tried to hurl himself at the cabinets. Hearing the commotion, their Ma turned to watch them, leaving her own bags forgotten. Raising an eyebrow, she watched as they almost tripped over each other in their haste to unpack the bags.

As the boys tried to dart past one another, their shoulder collided, sending them stumbling a few feet in opposite directions. As he caught himself on the counter, Murphy burst out laughing. The adrenaline rush was getting to him, and from the doorway, his older half's laughter joined his.

"Are yeh quite finished ravin' like a pack o' mad jackals?" Their Ma asked, crossing her arms. "Or are yeh both tryin' ta become yayhoos?"

"Hey, Conn, since when did yeh try ta fuckin' lean Swan Lake?" Murphy laughed, leaning against the cabinet doors*.

"When yeh started ta try an' learn how ta fuckin' fly!"

Both teen cracked up as their Ma sighed. "Idjets." She grumbled, turning to start unpacking once more. Catching a flash of black on pale skin, she wheeled to face Murphy. Her hand shot out, grabbing his wrist and yanking it upward. Staring at the tattoo, anger welled up in her. "Murphy Lee MacManus what the fuck is this?" She snapped, shaking his arm. "Are yeh fuckin' mad? What the hell made yeh go an' do somethin' like this?" She snarled, flinging his arm away as though it were contaminated. Murphy swallowed hard, and lowered his gaze.

"It's just a tattoo Ma.." He mumbled.

"An' why the fuck did yeh ge' one? Are yeh tryin' ta act like yer some hard ass?" She snapped.

"No! I jus' liked tha word and wha' it ment!" He replied, looking up at her. Connor rose from where he lay, fist clenched at his sides.

"Enough Ma. Murph ain' tha only one tha' got a tattoo. I talked him in ta it, an' I got one as well." He told her, holding up his hand.

Annabelle narrowed her gaze at him.

"Yeh what? Yeh talked yer damn brother in ta this? Connor, yer sapose ta be the smart one! The good one! I thought tha' I could trust yeh ta keep an eye on yer damn brother, not talk him in ta stupid shite like this!" She yelled.

Not backing down, Connor felt a sting of hurt through the bond he shared with Murphy as their Ma carried on like he wasn't even sitting there. In response to the hurt, his own anger welled up inside of him. Biting his lip, he tried to keep it in check. He knew their mother was just furious, and that she didn't mean anything by what she was yelling. But the urge to snap back at her clawed at his insides. No one upset Murphy, nor did they talk about him like he was a dumb animal. Taking a deep breath, he tried to remain calm.

"Ma, we're old enough ta make our own decisions." He told her, "I wanted these, an' Murph agreed."

Clenching her fists, their Ma glared at him. "Out! Both of yeh. Get the fuck out an' I call yeh when supper is ready." She commanded, turning away from them. Walking forward, Connor pulled Murphy to his feet and lead him out of the kitchen. The sounds of pots and pans slamming around followed them as they retreated onto the front porch. Breaking away from Connor, Murphy jogged down the stairs.

"Where yeh goin'?"

"Fer a walk." Murphy replied, keeping his head down.

"Murph, wait up!" Connor leapt off the top stair and onto the dirt walk way. In a few long strides, he caught up to Murphy. "I wanna come."

"Jus'…jus' leave me alone Conn.."

"Wha'? Why the fuck yeh sayin tha'? I can tell yer upset. Just let me help yeh."

Murphy spun to face Connor. "Fuck off Connor! I don' want yer fuckin' help! I can deal with this on me own without Golden Boy advice!" He snapped. Turning, he broke into a run, strides eating up the ground. Connor knew that if he tried, he could catch him, but the words Murphy had spoken, along with his full name, had him rooted to the spot. Bright eyes went dull with a small sadness as he watched the retreating figure. He knew where Murphy would run, and if anything happened to his better half, the bond they shared would go haywire, so he chose to go back into the house. He had to explain to their Ma not to take it so hard on him and Murphy.

Walking back up the steps, he made his way into the house. The sounds from the kitchen alerted him to the fact that their Ma was still in a rage, and he chose to wait a while until he confronted her. Once she was in one of her moods, there was no way to get her to have a calm conversation. Silent as a shadow, he made his way up the stairs to their room. Closing the door behind him, he sat down on his bed, mind in a whirlwind of thoughts. What was he going to say to Murphy to help? Was their Ma going to calm down? Why did she always seem to favor Connor, no matter what Murphy tried? The chain of why's and what's continued on as he sat there, head in his hands. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he lay back and glared at the ceiling. He had to sort this out, and he knew that if he didn't, then nothing would get fixed. Rolling over, he sat up and tried to grasp a way of talking to their Ma without getting pissed. Finally, he just figured the conversation would take whatever path it wanted to and damn the consequences. Standing, he made his way down into the kitchen. Ma was standing with her back to the door, stirring a pot on the stove.

"Ma?"

"What?"

"Can we talk? Please?" He asked, walking over to stand by the table. She turned around to face him.

"About what?" She asked, crossing her arms.

"Murphy, the tattoos…I don't care."

"Fine, talk."

"Will yeh sit down?"

Sighing, Annabelle sat down across from her older son. "Alright, where da yeh want ta start?" She asked.

"I want ta know why yeh said what yeh did…and tell the truth." As the word truth fell from his mouth, the same tingle and surge of power he had gotten in the tattoo parlor crashed over him like sheet dropped on his head. Annabelle's eyes glazed over, and she sat frozen for a moment.

"I said it because it was true. I've always favored yeh over yer younger brother." She said, voice slightly monotone. Connor sat frozen to his seat. What the fuck was going on? Their Ma NEVER said anything like she just had. But there she sat, as though in a trance as she waited for Connor to say something.

"Ma…what's gotten in ta yeh?" He asked. The woman sat there, mute. Swallowing down panic, Connor tried a different question. "Why have yeh always favored me?" That same surge of power. As it started to fade, he noticed he could track where it came from.

"Yer my favorite because yer the one tha' always kept outta trouble, yeh never got on me nerves. Murphy always tried too hard ta stay away from anything tha' would get him noticed, and it bothered me more than anything. But yeh also are the one that stood out, yeh can do almost anything once yeh set yer mind ta it. Murphy always follows yeh like a sheep, and he was always draggin' yeh down. Bu' that's not all. 'M not sure wha' it is, but somethin' about tha way he looks at yeh, how he acts around yeh. It ain' right. But 'M not sure if 'M just imagining it. But he's always been a little too close ta yeh in the way he acts." Came the reply.

Connor felt sick as the answer fell from his Ma's lips like a stone. He wished he had never asked her. He had never felt like his twin was dragging him down, and most of the time, he quit the sport he was into because the other kids in it weren't his type of friends. He always turned to Murphy to complain, and he was HAPPY that Murphy was always behind him. Murphy never got into sports because he was more into drawing, painting, anything he could do with his hands. But their Ma never noticed that her youngest son could draw to the point Connor asked him if he had taken a picture. Murphy would just smile and roll his eyes before tucking the sketch away into one of his books. But he never showed their Ma, he knew that it wasn't as good Connor getting first in swim team, or being the quarter back for football. He just kept to himself and supported Connor no matter what Connor did. But what also caught his attention was the last part. What was she talking about? Fear swallowed him. What if she was saying she had noticed that Connor loved his twin in a way that was forbidden? He didn't know when it had started, but he knew he did, but never had Murphy ever shown that he felt the same way. Connor shook it off. There was no way that Murphy would ever feel the same about him as he did the dark haired teen. His Ma was probably just getting them confused.

Annabelle made a noise, jerking Connor back into reality. His stomach was churning and the truth of his Ma's words had him shaking. Her eyes were slowly returning to their normal vibriant color and she looked around the kitchen, a look of puzzlement on her face. "Connor? Yeh said yeh needed ta talk ta me?" She asked, watching him. Standing, Connor shook his head, he had to get out of that kitchen.

"Never mind Ma." Turning on his heel, he tried to walk as quickly as he could without drawing her attention to it. Once he was in the hallway, he darted out the door and down the stairs. Hitting the dirt walkway at a sprint, he knew he had to find Murphy. He needed the comfort of his younger half. That hadn't come as a shock. No matter how much they teased each other about it, they knew deep down Connor was older, but it still made for a good time when they started to tease each other that they were the older one. His feet carried him swiftly over the ground, eating it in long strides like a stallion racing the winds. Finally, the small pond on their land came into view, and beyond that, a large oak tree. Sure enough, there sat Murphy on the old swing, head bowed and smoking a cigarette. The tendrils of grey smoke danced lazily about him, as though they were trying to cheer him. But Murphy just kept his head down, slowly pushing the swing back and forth with his foot. Connor knew he didn't have to say anything as he walked up, Murphy knew he was coming before he even got close. It was one thing they were glad to have. They always knew when the other was close.

"Murphy?"

"Aye?"

"Can I sit with yeh?"

Murphy turned to face his twin. He could tell something was wrong in the way Connor was acting. "What's wrong?" He asked. Walking over, Connor sat down next to him. Reaching over, he silently asked for what was left of Murphy's smoke. Murphy handed it over, their fingers brushing. Connor swallowed back the jolt he felt at the touch.

"Somethin' Ma said…it kinda rattled me." He replied, inhaling a drag on the smoke.

"Yeh talked ta Ma?"

"Aye. But didn' get anywhere with her."

"Yeh shoulda known yeh wouldn't."

"Still wanted ta try…hey Murph, can I try somethin' on yeh?"

"Depends, what do yeh wanna try?"

"I just want ta ask yeh a question. Nothin' horrible." Connor assured him. Murphy nodded, trust showing in his eyes.

"Alrigh' then. Ask me."

Connor swallowed hard, this was going to be almost as painful as asking their Ma. He knew that Murphy had secrets for a reason, but he had to find out if he could really do what he the thought he could. Taking a deep breath, he looked into Murphy's eyes. "Tell the truth.." As the word left his mouth, the same blanket of power surged over him, and he watched his brother's bright, clear gaze cloud over. Dark blue eyes dulled, almost black. Connor hung his head.

"Do yeh envy me Murph?" He asked, voice soft.

Murphy was silent a moment. "Some days I do. Ma favors yeh, the family likes yeh better, and 'M forgotten in the shadows, treated like 'M stupid."

Connor sat on the swing beside Murphy, staring at the ground.

"Yer not stupid." He whispered. "What's yer favorite drawing?" Connor had to try to make this light, to keep Murphy's secrets safe. He had no right to be intruding like he was.

"One I did o' the one I love."

Connor jerked his head up. He almost slipped up and asked who it was. Instead, he smiled.

"What is it?"

"It's them sleepin'. The sunlight's fallin' on their face and they have tha blankets ta their waist. One hand is behind their head under tha pillow, tha other is hangin' off their bed." He explained.

"Male or female?" It was out before he could stop it.

"Male."

"Teen or older?"

"He's a teenager, but he's older than me."

Slowly, the glaze was leaving Murphy's eyes. Connor didn't notice, he was to busy staring at the ground, jealousy coursing through him.

"Taller or same height?"

"What?" Murphy asked, confusion on his face.

Jerking his head up, Connor's eyes went wide. "Oh…uh.." Murphy stared at him, then looked around.

"Weren't yeh gonna ask me somethin'?"

"I forgot..just don' worry about it. We should head home fer supper." He replied, standing up and walking away.

"Connor! Wait! What the fuck was that about?" Murphy called, racing to catch up. Grabbing Connor by the back of the shirt, he jerked him around. "Conn! Please, talk ta me!"

"I…yeh can' laugh, and yeh can' tell ANYONE what 'M gonna tell yeh. Swear ta it Murphy, please."

"Connor, I swear, I will never tell a secret. You know that. Please tell me?"

"There's somethin' wrong with me…really REALLY wrong."

"Like wha'?"

"I can' exactly explain it…but can yeh promise me something?"

"Aye, anything Conn."

"Don't be afraid of me."

Murphy stopped walking. "What tha fuck does tha' mean? Conn, yer kinda freakin' me the fuck out here.."

"Look, yeh will know what I mean when yeh see it. Come on, let's just go." With that, Connor turned and began to make his way back towards their house. Shrugging slightly, Murphy caught up with him and fell into step. They were silent the rest of the way, each lost in their own thoughts. Connor was trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with him, and Murphy was worried about his older half.

Reaching their house, the boys made their way up the steps and into the hall. From the kitchen, their Ma poked her head out of the kitchen. "Supper is ready." She told them, before going back in. Sighing, they made their way in, keeping quiet. She was putting the soup into a serving bowl, back to them. "Murphy, would yeh please set tha table." She asked, voice calm as she set the pot back on the stove. Nodding, Murphy grabbed three bowls, the sliver ware, and the cups. Setting them at their usual spots, with their Ma at the north corner of their table, Connor at the east and himself at the west, he set the dinnerware up. Connor made his way over to the fridge, grabbing the milk and setting the bottle on the table. Once everything was set up, they sat down. Filling their bowls and glasses, they joined hands, said a quick prayer, and began to eat.

Finally, their Ma broke the silence of the room. "Boys, 'M only gonna say this once. Yeh can do what yeh both want…yer bodies are yer bodies…but tha' don't mean tha' I like 'em." She told them, keeping her gaze on them.

"Aye Ma." Connor mumbled, staring at his bowl.

"Aye." Murphy replied, shoving his food around. "Can I be excused?" He asked, standing up.

Both Connor and their Ma watched him. "I guess so." Annabelle replied, going back to her supper. Cleaning up his place, Murphy walked out of the room. She glanced to Connor. "Something wrong with yer brother?" She asked him. Shrugging, Connor finished his supper and smiled at his Ma. Cleaning up his place, he smiled at her.

"I'll finish tha dishes later Ma."

"Thank yeh, yer relatives are waitin' fer me." She said, cleaning up her place. Kissing him on the cheek, she started to get ready to leave. Once she was out the door, Connor raced up the stairs to their room. Murphy was curled up in a corner of his bed sketching.

"Ma left…I was wonderin' if yeh wanted ta help me with tha dishes." He asked, leaning against the door frame. Murphy glanced up, then back at his sketch. Heaving a sigh, he closed his book and stretched.

"Aye, I'll help yeh." He said, standing and making his way over to the doorway. Connor refused to move, grinning mischievously as Murphy approached him. Murphy's own grin surfaced and he crossed his arms over his chest. "Are yeh gonna move or not?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nah, I think tha' 'M pretty happy righ' here." He replied, trying not to laugh. Murphy bit his lip, trying to hide his smile.

"Then I don' have ta help yeh now do I?" He taunted, moving to turn around. Connor grabbed him with a whoop, dragging Murphy backwards into the hall. The tumbled together onto the hard wood floor, landing with a small thud and a few well chosen curses. Rolling, they started a small tussle, hands flying and laughter echoing off the walls. "Ye arse!" Murphy laughed, swatting every inch that he could reach. Connor was laughing, returning each swat.

"I never said I wasn't!" He snorted, trying to pin Murphy. Suddenly, he found himself pinned instead. Murphy winced as his hand hit the floor lightly. Connor watched him. "Are yeh alright?" He asked. The dark haired man nodded.

"Aye, 'M fine. Just kinda hit me hand." He replied. Shifting, Murphy smirked. "Finally pinned yeh." He teased, wrinkling his nose.

"First time fer everything, ain' there?" Connor taunted. As Murphy snorted, the way they were sprawled hit Connor like a ton of bricks. Their legs were tangled, their hips pressing together, and the only thing keeping their chests apart was the way Murphy was propping himself with a hand on either side of Connor's head. "Murphy…" The name was off his lips before he could stop it.

"Aye?"

Connor noted the soft, husky way Murphy replied. Swallowing hard, he knew he had to do something. "About wha' I said earlier, I…I think somethin' happened in tha tattoo shop. I can ask someone fer the…fer them to not lie, and…the things tha both people have told me have been horrible." He muttered. Murphy raised an eyebrow.

"Are yeh mad?" Murphy asked. Connor narrowed his eyes at him.

"Yeh promised yeh wouldn't laugh." He snapped, looking away. Murphy swallowed.

"Sorry. I shouldn' have. But…can yeh prove it?" He asked. Connor bit his lip.

"Not on yeh…yeh won' remember it…at least, yeh didn't the last time. I didn' know what was going on. I just asked yeh fer tha truth abou' what yeh thought on Ma and…yeh got all glazy eyed and started talking..'M so sorry Murph. Had I known, I swear I wouldn't have asked yeh." Connor told him. Murphy sighed.

"I'll forgive yeh Conn, because I believe yeh." He whispered. "Yeh…yeh aren't mad a' me are yeh?"

He snorted. "I never knew yeh could be so stupid. Murph, yeh know tha' ta me, yer more important than any o' them. And yeh shouldn't let what they say get ta yeh."

"What else did yeh ask me?"

"Wha'?"

"What else did yeh ask me Conn…please tell me."

"I figured out what was goin' on, so I changed tha subject. I asked ye about yer art. Nothin' personal, I swear. Secrets are meant to stay that way." Connor told him, voice soft.

"Thank yeh Conn…but..if 'M ta believe yeh, I have ta ask yeh…what's my favorite sketch?"

It felt like someone had rammed a blade into his heart as the answer floated to him.

"One yeh did…of yer love…" He whispered, looking down. "I didn't ask who Murph…yer secret o' that is safe."

Murphy let out a breath, resting his head on Connor's shoulder. "Yeh kinda had me worried." He replied, voice muffled. Slowly, he sat up. "I believe yeh Conn, and 'M sorry I laughed at yeh." Sliding off of Connor, he helped him sit up. They sat, shoulders touching and gazes locking.

"Yeh uh…yeh promised yeh'd help me with the dishes." Connor mumbled, staring at the floor boards.

"Conn…is somethin' wrong?"

"Nah, nothing."

"Tell me."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Why the fuck not?"

"Because I don't want ta."

"Damn it Conn, just tell me."

"Ye don't look like Ma, so stop acting like her. Unless yeh grow a pair of breasts and dye yer hair, I don't have ta."

"Don't tempt me, 'M about ta do anything ta make yeh tell me."

"Are you really going ta try?"

"If yeh don't tell me what's wrong."

Connor shuddered at the though. "I'd rather not tell yeh. But I will. 'M scared Murphy…really scared. What if this doesn't go away? What if I have ta tip toe around Ma? But most of all, Murphy, I can' just keep away from yeh. But…But 'M scared tha' 'M gonna slip up and say somethin' and yer gonna be spillin yer guts ta me." He explained.

Murphy raised his eyebrow at Connor. "Yeh do know tha' no matter what yeh say, yer not gonna chase me away." He swore. "But we need ta figure out how ta fix this. And even before tha' we have ta figure out what's causing it."

"Aye, and I think I know what." Connor raised his hand, fresh tattoo standing out against his tanned skin. "Can I…can I test a theory on you?"

"Depends…what's yer theory?"

"Can I ask yeh some questions?"

Murphy paused. Weight his options, he nodded. "Aye, yeh can."

Taking a deep breath, Connor had an idea. "Do yeh like waffles?"

Murphy resisted the urge to bang his head on the nearest wall. "Aye.."

"Ok, no glazed eyes, no monotone voice…Tell…" He paused. Murphy watched him. "Tell me the truth." Once that word was out of his mouth, the power surged through him and Murphy's eyes glazed over. "Do you have a favorite animal?" Connor asked, scrambling to ask something that wouldn't impose on Murphy's secrets.

"Aye, the wolf."

"Where do you really want to live?"

"Somewhere in the country, where there are a lot of trees, and animals."

"Do you want a two story house?" He hated the random questions, but he couldn't think of anything else.

"Aye, a white one, with a wrap around porch and a barn." Slowly, Murphy's eyes started to return to normal.

"Do yeh want kids?"

"Conn…what the fuck were yeh askin' me tha' involves kids?" He asked, studying his brother.

"Well, I think I figured it out. I have ta say…tell me the…can't think o' a different fuckin' word…"

"Truth?"

"Aye. And then fer a few minutes, I can ask people anythin' an' they spill their darkest secrets ta me." He replied.

"So tomorrow we have ta go back ta tha' tattoo shop and get him ta fix this."

"And hope it's that easy."

"Aye." Standing, Murphy offered Connor his hand. "Come on, let's do tha dishes." He said, leading the way down the stairs. His lighter half followed him, mind wandering to horrible thoughts along the lines of "What if this doesn't work and I end up going mad because people randomly start spilling their secrets to me?" and others. Shuddering, he tried to push the thoughts aside as they made their way into the kitchen. "Murph?"

"Aye?"

"I just remembered, yeh haven't fuckin' eaten anything all day. Please, just eat somethin' fer me?" Connor pleaded. Murphy sighed, and as he opened his mouth to protest, his stomach let out a grumble.

"Fine, fine, just don't start tha fuckin' dishes yet." He grumbled, walking over and opening the fridge. Taking out the left over soup, he grabbed a small pot and poured some of it in it. As Connor watched him, a thought invaded his mind as he watched his younger half move around the small kitchen. It was as if they were already living alone…together somewhere other than here. He shook his head as his mind started to wander on the path of how it would be if they were together, if they were lovers. Would it be like this? Him leaning casually against the counter while Murphy moved around getting food together? A small smile painted itself on his features as he watched. His younger half was looking for something to drink, shoving aside the milk and the orange juice in the front. Finding a soda, he closed the fridge and went to stir his soup.

Murphy could feel Connor's eyes on him, and he had to bit his lower lip not to ask if Connor liked what he saw. Opening his soda, he took a drink, feeling Connor's gaze follow the curve of his throat. Something inside of him tried to claw its way to the surface, wanting to just snap and kiss his brother. But he re-caged it, a small blush painting his face a light pink as he checked his soup. He sensed, rather than heard Connor move closer. A tanned, newly tattooed hand shot out, grabbing the can in his grasp. Fingers brushed, and a spark danced along his veins as the touch lingered for a moment longer than was needed. Turning, he tried to fake a glare at his older half. A dark blue gaze locked with a lighter shade and he froze as something inside Connor's gaze caught his attention. Swallowing hard, he turned back to the stove. He tried to focus solely on the warming contents. He had fought these feelings for years, one more night couldn't hurt.

Holding the cold can, Connor suddenly grinned a wicked smile as he edged closer to his younger half. Inch by painful inch, he reached out his free hand. Grabbing the bottom of Murphy's shirt in a flash as quick as a cobra, he jerked it up and pressed the icy can against Murphy's lower back.

"FUCK ME!" Murphy yelped, arching away from the icy spot on his back. "Yeh fuckin' ARSE!" He cried, trying to wiggle away from the can. Connor started laughing, holding the can as best as he could against his twin. Murphy writhed, trying to get away from the sensation. Something deep in Connor lifted it head, purring in contentment at the sight of Murphy, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, and back arched as he tried to avoid the can. Finally, Connor pulled it away, spinning to hide the slight tightness in his jeans. "I…fuckin'…hate yeh right now." Murphy panted out, leaning on the counter for support. More wicked laughter escaped Connor's lips.

"Nah, yeh know yeh love me." He teased, setting the soda down. Murphy threw the wooden spoon in his hand at Connor. The lighter haired teen managed to dodge it, but not the dark haired blur that tackled him. Landing on his back, he stared up into the half angry gaze of Murphy. "Aww come on now, it was just a bit o' fun."

"How would yeh like it if I stuck something' cold on yer lower back?" Murphy snarled. Connor had to bite his lip. Murphy's voice always took on a huskier tone when he was mad.

"I'd probably like it." The sentence slipped out before he knew what he was saying. Murphy raised an eyebrow.

"That's one odd fuckin' kink yeh have."

"'M sure you have some odd ones."

Murphy snorted. "Nope, no' tha' I know of."

"Doubt tha'."

"Can't prove it now can yeh?"

Connor sank his teeth into his lower lip to keep from letting it slip that he indeed could, and have fun doing it. Instead, he just shrugged. Murphy moved from where he had been laying down to pin Connor, to straddling him, keeping most of his weight on his legs. The movement hand Connor almost letting out a hiss of air as he felt the strong thighs on either side of him.

"So, how did we start this conversation again?"

"Tha soda can."

"It was a rhetorical question."

"A question is still a question."

Hearing a noise, Murphy turned his upper body to look over his shoulder, and Connor had to fight a moan as Murphy's weight shifted slightly. "Shite!" Jumping up, Murphy darted over to the hissing pot of soup that was almost boiling over. Turning the heat off, he set it on a different burner, letting it calm down a bit before pouring it into a bowl. Connor climbed to his feet, watching Murphy. "Yeh know…yeh go' me rather curious." He taunted, leaning against the counter.

"About what?"

"Yer kinks. I've never seen yeh glance at a girl, and I can' pick out anything on a guy tha' get's yer attention. Come on, yeh gotta have something about a person tha' attracts yeh to them."

"Their smile mostly."

"Tha's actually a good one…I'd have ta say, I like their smile. Anything yeh count as a kink? Only fair I told yeh one o' mine."

Murphy blushed lightly as he blew on a spoonful of soup. Shaking his head, he swallowed it, the liquid scalding his throat in his haste to avoid the question.

"Oh come on! Only fair."

"I..I don't think I have one…"

"Lie."

"Yer point?"

"Please?"

"No."

"Oh come on Murph. Don' make me attack yeh with the can again."

"Yeh wouldn't."

Connor grabbed the can, and backed Murphy into the corner of the counter with it. "Spill. All yeh gotta tell me is one. And mine was slightly embarrassing, so yeh gotta tell me one tha's equal."

"Iliketabebit."

Connor paused. "Did you just have a stroke or did you actually say something?" He asked. Murphy glared at him.

"Please don't make me say it again."

"It doesn't count if I can't hear it!"

"I..like ta be bit..just a light bite." Murphy said, blushing. "Don' ask why, no idea why. But I do." He replied.

Connor grinned. "Well, little brother has a fuckin' naughty kink." He teased. Murphy swatted his arm.

"Shut it. I didn't tease yeh about yers." He snapped, looking down. Connor sighed.

"Yeh know I don't mean a word o' it Murph."

Murphy sighed. "Aye, I know, but still. Now then, let me eat in peace. Fuck, if it'll get yeh ta leave me alone, start tha dishes!" He said, shoving Connor back. His older half laughed and made his way over to this sink. Running the water, he grabbed the dish soap. Sensing Murphy moving next to him, he shifted a little to let his brother pass him to reach his food.

For a bit, the kitchen was quiet, save for the rattle of dishes in the sink. Murphy was busy eating, and Connor was busy washing the dishes. But as Murphy placed his bowl in the sink, Connor attacked him with soap suds.

"Oi! Yeh damn arse! Did yeh fuckin' lose yer mind tonight? Or are yeh a fuckin' eight year old on candy? Or do you have this magic crack stash somewhere?" Murphy cried, grabbing soap and returning the attack.

Connor didn't reply, he was too intent on returning fire. Soon, both teens were laughing, covered in soap suds and slipping on the wet floor. It seemed there was more water on the two of them and on the floor than in the actual sink. Finally, the war was ended with Murphy slipping and hitting the floor, laughing the whole time.

"Are yeh ok?" Connor asked, laughter slowly ebbing into chuckles.

"Aye, gonna be a bit bruised, but 'M ok."

"Good." Reaching out, Connor offered his hand to help Murphy up. Pulling Murphy to his feet, the two surveyed the kitchen. Soap suds were on almost half of the surfaces, and water was almost everywhere. "Yeh know…it looks like a giant wet dog came in here and just had a freak out rave party then left us the after math." He mused. Murphy snorted, sides aching from laughter.

"Come on, we need ta clean this up." Taking a step forward, he reached for a dry towel on the rack. Slipping on the water, he collided with Connor. His twin reacted instantly, wrapping his arms around Murphy and holding him steady on his feet, bearing most of his weight. Slowly, Murphy gathered his feet under him, and stood fully on his own. As he did, he felt his heart almost stop. He was flush against Connor, arms around his neck from where he had grabbed to catch himself. Powerful, protective arms were still wound around his waist, and they were scant inches apart. He was two inches shorter than Connor, so he had to tilt his head back just a bit to meet Connor's gaze. His breathing was slowly increasing, and a tremble coursed through his body. His heart couldn't keep a steady beat as it pounded away as if he had just landed from a free fall.

Connor felt Murphy shake a little in his grasp, and he almost tightened his hold on him. His heart was trying to pound as fast as a hummingbird's wings, and something inside of him was purring happily at the situation he had found himself in. His gaze trailed down from the dark blue gaze to the soft, light colored lips. Flicking his gaze back up, he couldn't help but lick his lips slightly. He watched Murphy's eyes flick to watch the movement, and he slowly pulled the other half of his soul closer to him. The arms wrapped around his neck tightened in response, and their bodies pressed together. He could feel Murphy's warm breath ghost across his face, and the heart beat that was falling into almost the exact same beat as his own. Something inside of him was getting impatient, demanding that he just do it, and be happy. But a smaller, almost crushed part was yelling not too.

"Conn…" Murphy's voice was soft and low, almost lost to him. It jerked reality back around them, almost crushing Connor. Feeling like he had just be shocked, he jerked away, almost shoving Murphy away from him. He didn't stop to think, he just darted out the kitchen door and out to the front porch. The night air was cool, and it soothed his burning face. He was amazed that it wasn't glowing. What the fuck had he just done? His darkest secret, and he had almost spilled it to Murphy. Digging around in his jeans pocket, he pulled out the crumpled pack of smokes and lit one, inhaling the smoke deep into his lungs to calm himself. Glancing back over his shoulder, he sighed, exhaling a swirling battle of knights and dragons, mixed emotions, and part of his common sense. As the smoke evaporated, he jumped off the porch and started to make his way into town. He was going to find the tattoo artist, if it was the last thing he did. He had to fix this, and he had to fix it soon. He was just trying to tell himself that was why he was walking away from the house, not the fact that if he went back in something could happen he might regret.

Inside the house, Murphy had sank to the floor, head in his hands. His mind was almost a total blank, save for one thing. What the hell had just happened? Why had it almost happened? Looking up, he sighed, and leaned back against the counter. Closing his eyes, he sent a small prayer up that things would sort themselves out. Standing, he started cleaning the kitchen, mind on other things as he did.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*small time lapse due to Connor walking to town. xD*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Checking the tattoo parlor had been a stupid idea, but he didn't know where else to start. Seeing it was closed, he made his way to the fist pub that he saw. Even if it took all night, he was going to hunt this jackass down and make him fix what he had done. Walking into the smoke filled, dimly lit bar, he glanced around. No sign of him. Biting his lip, he decided to try a long shot. Making his way over to the bar, he sat down and smiled at the bar maid. She returned it, walking over. "What can I get yeh?"

"A soda. Can I ask ye something?" Connor asked. The girl smirked.

"Depends, is it something along tha lines o' me being single?" She asked. Connor had to bite back a laugh as he realized she was flirting with him.

"Actually, 'M lookin' fer someone." He replied, watching her wilt slightly. He described the tattoo man as best as he could. After he finished, the girl paused, thinking.

"Hang on a second hun. Oi! Angus, come here!" She called down the bar. An older man made his way down the bar to them.

"What do yeh want Lass?" He asked.

"This boy here is lookin' fer Patty." She told him. The old man scratched at his beard.

"I think he's down at tha pub on Cherry Street. Kozy Koner* or somethin' like tha'." He offered Connor.

"Thank yeh sir." Connor replied, standing. Paying the girl, and giving her a tip, he made his way out of the pub and down the main street. As he walked, his mind wandered to what Murphy was doing. Probably cleaning the kitchen up from the mess they had made. A pang of guilt surged through him, after all, he had started the mess. But this had to get fixed. Studying the sign, he started making his way down the street to the pub on the end. There were no cars in front of it, and it looked like it was closed. Gathering his courage, he walked up to the door and opened it. Music was playing, soft and low from a juke box in the corner. The small group of patrons turned to face him, most of them just turned back to their glasses and cigarettes. But the tattoo artists kept facing him. "Can I help yeh?" He asked, holding his glass of whiskey.

"Aye, how the fuck do I fix wha' yeh did ta me?" Connor asked, crossing his arms.

"Son, pull up a seat." Connor glared at him, but walked over and sat down next to him. "There's a reason I did what I did ta yeh. Yeh got a secret, an' it's one tha' yeh should tell the person. Yeh have ta give up yer darkest secret Pretty, an' yeh gotta tell tha one tha' it concerns. Otherwise, yer gonna have ta learn ta deal with people tellin' yeh things yeh don' wanna know. An' what if yeh slip up around tha one yeh love? An' yeh ask fer somethin' an' he's tellin' yeh everything. Tha more yeh ask someone fer tha truth, tha more they are gonna tell yeh, an' soon, Sweetness is gonna be tellin' yeh everythin' he ever hid from yeh. So, yeh have ta tell tha truth. Once yeh do, then tha power will leave. Yeh'll be normal again. I swear." Patty explained, sipping his drink. Connor froze.

"I…I can't tell him…it's not right." He replied, shaking.

"Trust me Pretty, yeh'll like what yeh get."

Standing, Connor sighed. "Thank yeh, I guess. How soon do I have ta do it?" He asked.

"Whenever yeh want ta." With that, the tattoo artist turned back to the bar and was absorbed in conversation with the bar keep. Weighing his options, Connor walked out. What the hell was he going to do now? Should he tell Murphy he loved him, or would he have to learn to live with not asking anybody anything? The urge to slam his head against the nearest building was over whelming. Shaking it off, he made his way back towards home.

Murphy was indeed finishing up cleaning the kitchen. Looking around, he made sure that there was no water, and no soap suds anywhere. Once everything was put away and clean, he snapped the light out and made his way up the stairs. Padding into their bedroom, he grabbed a pair of clean boxers and a baggy t-shirt to sleep in. Walking into the bathroom, he stripped down and turned on the water. As he waited for it to heat, his mind wandered. Where was Connor? Had he panicked after what had happened in the kitchen? Murphy knew he was fine, or the bond they shared would have acted up. Stepping under the spray of hot water, he let it was away his thoughts. Instead, he just let his mind go blank and focused on the spray of hot water that was cascading over his body.

Reaching their dark house, Connor saw a few lights on upstairs in their room and the bathroom. He smirked, knowing his twin was taking a shower. Padding up the steps and into the house, he made his way down the dark hall and up the stairs. Sure enough, the water was running. By passing their room, he made his way into the bathroom. Pausing by the door, he swallowed. It had never bothered either one of them before to just burst in on the other, and they used to sit and talk to one another while they were kids. Making his way over to the toilet, he sat down on the closed lid and Murphy's close. "Murph?" He called, just loud enough to be heard over the water.

"Aye?"

"I found tha guy. Got tha answers I needed."

"And?"

"It sucks…I have ta tell me darkest secret ta the person it's about. Otherwise, this just gets worse."

"Do yeh want me ta be with yeh when yeh tell them?"

"Yeh have ta be…it's about yeh."

Murphy was silent, and only the sound of running water could be heard. "Alright." Was the reply. Finally, the water shut off and Murphy's arm reached out of the curtain. Connor was there in a flash, handing him the towel. Wrapping it around his waist, Murphy drew back the curtain. Connor swallowed hard. Water was dripping off of him, and his dark hair was matted down and in his dark blue gaze. His scarred body, well muscled body shifted, and Connor watched the play of those muscles as they moved. Once Murphy was dry, he made his way over to grab his clothes. Pulling them on, he turned to Connor. "Alright, room. Yeh can tell me there." He said, gesturing to the door. Connor nodded and lead the way out, shutting the light out as he passed the door. They made their way back down the hall to their room, and once in, Connor closed the door.

"Sit." He offered, settling down onto his own bed. Murphy sat across from him, eyes alert and leery.

"Murph, I don't know how ta tell yeh this very well…And 'M scared ta death tha' it's gonna change everything between us. And I don't want tha'. So yeh have ta swear ta me, nothing in gonna change." He asked, locking gazes with Murphy. His darker half nodded.

"I swear ta yeh Connor. Besides, I swore a long time ago tha' I would never leave yeh." Murphy replied.

"I….I.."Connor was chocking up, trying to say what he had wanted to say for a few years now. But now that the chance had come, he was finding that it was hard, and he paused. "I…fuck Murph…I love yeh…in a way tha' no brother should."

Murphy froze, mouth half open as he tried to let register what had just been said. "Yeh..yeh what?"

"I love yeh, more than anything."

Slowly, Murphy started to smile, "I love yeh too Conn…I have fer a few years now..I was scared ta tell yeh, fer the exact same reasons yeh were scared ta tell me." He replied, blushing lightly as he shot Connor a sheepish smile. For a moment, both men were quiet as it sank in what the other had said. Finally, Connor slowly stood up. Reaching over, he offered Murphy his hand.

Murphy took it, and let Connor pull him to his feet. Strong arms wrapped around his waist, drawing him close. Murphy wrapped his arms slowly around Connor's neck, trying to keep from shaking as he did. Connor slowly drew him closer, and smiled at him weakly. "I love yeh." He whispered.

"I love yeh too."

Taking a deep breath, Connor slowly started to lean in. Closing his eyes, Murphy waited for the fateful moment. Just as Connor's lips ghosted against Murphy's, they heard a racket in the hallway.

"BOYS! 'M home!" Their Ma called up. Connor leapt back as though he had been electrocuted.

"Damn it.." He grumbled. "AYE MA! We're in our room!" He called back. Turning to face Murphy, he made a face. His twin laughed, shaking his head and making his way over to his bed.

"Did it work?" He asked, reaching for his sketch book.

"Did what work?"

Murphy sighed, staring at him. "Tha fuckin' problem of yers."

"Oh..no idea. We haven't tried. Tell me the truth Murphy." Nothing happened as he said the word. No surge of power in him, no glazed eyes. Murphy stared at him.

"And if I don't?" He asked, grinning.

"I..think it worked." Connor said, face splitting into a grin of his own.

"Tha's great Conn!"

His lighter half was almost crying in relief. No more having to worry about not saying anything, no more having to watch as his lover gave his heart to someone else. Everything was going good for him. Murphy smiled at him, before going back to his sketch book. "What are yeh drawin'?" He asked, sitting down next to him. Murphy gave him a sheepish grin.

"Nothin' special. Just somethin' I saw the other day." He muttered, closing his sketch book. Connor shot him a fake pout.

"Come on, let me see it." He pleaded, trying to grab the book. Murphy shoved it under his pillow, laughing.

"No!"

"Please!"

"Not on yer life."

Soon, the two were rough housing, Connor trying to get the sketch book every chance he got. Soon, Murphy was pinned under him, a wide smile on his face as he used his head to press the pillow down. As Murphy grinned up at him, Connor realized how they were laying. Murphy's legs were tangled with his, and their bodies were almost flush against one another. He had an arm on either side of Murphy's head, and was using them to keep weight off of Murphy's chest. Murphy's dark hair was disheveled, and his face was a faint pink from laughing and the fight. His eyes were bright, and they watched Connor with a trust only they could have. Something in him suddenly made him move. Before he could double think it, he was kissing his darker half.

Murphy's eyes went wide for a moment before they drifted closed. Connor's lips were soft, and warm. His arms wrapped around the neck above them, pulling the other teen closer. The slight weight of Connor increased on him as the body was drawn closer. Soon, he felt a tongue flicking out and tracing his lips. Hesitant, he opened his mouth a little. In a small burst of air, Connor's tongue invaded his mouth. He groaned into the kiss as the taste of Murphy flooded his senses. He was smoky, mingled with cinnamon gum and soda.

A small battle for dominance ensued, each trying to beat the other. Before a victor was claimed, their lungs began to scream for air, and they broke apart, panting slightly. Resting his forehead against Murphy's, Connor locked eyes with him. He was met with a warm gaze, full of surprise and love. Leaning down, he nuzzled Murphy's throat.

"I love yeh." He whispered into the pale ear, tracing it with his tongue. Murphy shuddered under him.

"I love yeh as well."

Kissing his way down Murphy's jaw, he captured the soft mouth once more. It was a soft, chaste kiss, and Murphy's hands tangled in the soft hair under them. Breaking away, Connor trailed a line of kisses down Murphy's jaw and to his throat. Licking a small spot, Connor nipped it, and latched on. Nipping and sucking, he formed a mark where Murphy's shoulder met his neck. It would be hidden by his shirt, so their Ma would be none the wiser. Leaning back to study his mark, he licked it slightly.

"Perfect." He teased, nuzzling the warm skin.

"Arse." Murphy muttered, trying not to smirk.

"Now can I see the drawing?" He asked. Murphy swatted his arm and sighed.

"Fine…yeh just can't tease me."

Reaching under the pillow, Connor grabbed the sketch book. Flipping it open, he paused. A mother and her child sat on a bench, the little girl in a ragged dress, playing with a broken doll. The mother was holding the little girls hand, worry clear on her face. The next one was of their back pasture, the oak tree with their swing. He kept flipping until he paused. There he was, laughing merrily. The next one was him on the couch, book open in his lap. There were more of him, but in the end of the book was one dated a month ago.

He was asleep, blankets shucked down to his waist. His mouth was slightly open, and his hand was buried under the pillow while the other was dangling off the bed. He looked up at Murphy and smiled. "Their amazing Murph. Why don't yeh ever let anyone see them? Or enter them in ta contests?" He asked. Murphy blushed.

"I just don' like others seeing me work." He replied, shrugging. "Yer tha only one tha' I let see them."

Connor shook his head and set the book aside. Leaning forward, he rested his hand on Murphy's cheek. Brushing it was his thumb, he smiled. "I feel special."

"Yeh are." With that, Murphy leaned in and captured his mouth in a kiss.

Connor pulled him over, and pulled Murphy onto his lap. Not once did they break contact as Murphy straddled him. Connor's hands came to rest on the strong hips, fingers digging in slightly. Murphy's hands trailed up and tangled in soft locks, tugging lightly. Groaning, Connor arched up lightly. Murphy broke the kiss, a wicked smile on his face.

"Did I find something yeh like?" He asked, voice husky. Connor moaned, leaning forward to sink his teeth lightly into the pale flesh in front of him. Murphy had to bite back a groan at the sensation.

"Looks like we're fair." Connor panted. Murphy narrowed his eyes at his lighter half.

Things were about to get very interesting.


End file.
